


Sweet Fever Pitch

by Kuukkeli



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, MTMTE, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Ratchet has fangs, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6642169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="http://viisivarvaslaiskiainen.tumblr.com/post/143315379908/adhesivesandscrap-viisivarvaslaiskiainen">This conversation happened.</a>
</p><p> </p><p>Post-MTMTE #51. :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sweet Fever Pitch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vienn_peridot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/gifts).



> [This conversation happened.](http://viisivarvaslaiskiainen.tumblr.com/post/143315379908/adhesivesandscrap-viisivarvaslaiskiainen)
> 
>  
> 
> Post-MTMTE #51. :)

Ratchet managed to pin Drift down to the berth, gripping the speedster’s wrists tightly into one hand while his left hand dragged over the growling Drift’s chest, down his striped stomach to his scorching hot panel, leaving small streaks of pealed paint in its wake. Pressing hard against the panel, Ratchet growled back, baring his own fangs, as he felt a strong pulse of _challenge/not going to submit/come on!_ flare from his struggling lover.

Drift tried to wedge his feet between them and against Ratchet’s stomach to kick him off to dominate the medic but the older mech was way too bulky for him to do that. That and Ratchet saw what he was attempting so he just dropped himself on Drift, pinning him down to the berth with his weight, his rigid spike rubbing against the other mech’s inner thigh, a wet trail following the tip as the medic ground his hips against Drift’s.

Que more growling and struggling.

Can’t have that, now can we?

Ratchet sunk his fangs into Drift’s neck, locking his jaws in place, putting enough pressure for Drift to feel it but not enough to puncture through and injure the rubbery line. The white and red mech gasped and uttered a whimper but still refused to give in. The bite just added fuel to his fire and he could feel and hear the strain in his arms as he tried to free them from under Ratchet’s iron grip.

The white and orange mech tightened his grip to the point of almost blocking the energon flow to the swordsmech’s hands, growling around his mouthful of Drift’s neck. He rubbed the hot panel with his fingers, feeling it quivering under his touch, Drift obviously fighting the urge to open it and allow Ratchet in. Ratchet would have to do more than that to get what he wanted.

The awkward position didn’t allow Ratchet much room to move his hand as he lay on his unyielding lover so he rose to his knees, though not removing his mouth from the smaller mech’s neck and shuffled forward to force Drift’s legs higher, baring his targeted panel. With more room to move, the larger mech palmed the panel, running his fingers up and down, gathering the leaked lubricants and smearing them around the still closed panel.

Drift groaned and couldn’t no longer ignore the insistent demand to open his panel, a breathy moan slipping from his lips as he was instantly filled with two fingers while the sharp fangs freed his neck. The fingers buried deep, to the knuckle, before pulling out, dragging against every node they could find, repeating the fast thrusting motion. The speedster wailed as Ratchet rubbed his glowing, swollen anterior node with his thumb, rolling it in circles.

Ratchet finger-fragged his lover until his hand was soaked and grinned at him as his stroppy Drift still didn’t show signs of submission. He downright _laughed_ at him when Drift click-click-clicked his teeth at him, finally removing his fingers.

Growling at the larger mech, Drift watched as the medic lined up their hips, his gaze tracking every move Ratchet made; how he touched his own spike with looooong, agonizingly slow strokes, how he rubbed the underside of his spike against the white and red mech’s valve, the ridges along the shaft dragging against his node, the tip poking through the folds…

“Oh, come ON!” Drift barked, his field roiling with desperate, raging arousal, hate towards the constant but oh! so pleasurable teasing but also deep affection and love.

Ratchet merely chuckled but decided he had tortured them both long enough and with one swift thrust seated himself to the hilt inside Drift, the room filling with two sets of moans; a perfect duet of pleasure. Setting a brutal pace, the white and orange mech thrust into his lover as if trying to frag him through the berth. And it sounded like that’s what Drift wanted.

“Oh, YESYESYES RATCHET YES!”

He lifted his left hand to grip Drift’s other wrist and pinned the swordsmech’s wrists to the berth beside his head, never ceasing his pounding. He drank the litany of ‘Yesyesyesyes don’t stop, Ratchet, don’t you fragging stop!’ that Drift let loose.

Oh, Ratchet had no intentions of stopping now, don’t you worry, Drift.

The rough thrusting made the smaller mech slide on the berth back and forth and the sensation of it made his arousal go sky high. The feeling of Ratchet’s spike gliding inside him made his processor foggy and he couldn’t focus on anything else other than that amazing, beyond perfect spike. It felt so good it got him slip from his role; growling turned into whimpering, his snarly mouth opened up into a ‘O’ shape, making his moans even more louder, his field no longer projecting aggressive challenge but faint waves of submission that only got stronger with every hard thrust.

As soon as Ratchet picked up the changed mood in Drift’s field, he eased up his pace and slowed down to a gentle, rolling motion. He searched for the swordsmech’s lips and captured them into a soft open mouth kiss, tongues dancing together against each other, both of them moaning into the kiss. He released Drift’s arms that immediately wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer as if it was possible to be any closer to one another.

The slow pace was such a contrast to the rough handling just now but it didn’t pale one bit in comparison. In fact, the nodes that were ignited previously, were on _fire_ now. Drift broke the kiss with a gasp as Ratchet ground his pelvis against his, the base of the spike rubbing against his throbbing node.

“Don’t stop”, he breathed and locked lips with the larger mech again, kissing with a fervor.

 _Never_ , Ratchet replied through his field.

The intense combination of physical pleasure and field play was the downfall for Drift and he came undone under the medic with a loud moan, screaming his lover’s name in the throes of his overload.

The older mech followed right behind, not much quieter as he seated himself in to the base, burying his face into the crook of Drift’s neck, transfluids erupting from the slit of his spike to fill the other mech in one, two, three, four spurts. He both heard and felt Drift’s reaction to his overload as the white and red body twitched at each wave of transfluids filling him.

They waited until their shared high faded, slowly, before Ratchet made a move to pull out. But Drift had other ideas.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he purred, his voice raspy and a bit staticy, tightening his embrace around the older mech’s neck.

The medic raised an optical ridge but succumbed to the post-coital cuddles, smiling, “Apparently nowhere.”

“Damn right”, Drift chuckled, enjoying the feeling of Ratchet still seated inside him.

They had time to clean up later but right now it was cuddle time.


End file.
